


my sweet and tender beast

by katotastic000



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different Mastermind (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Mastermind Ishimaru Kiyotaka, Mastermind Owada Mondo, ishimondo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katotastic000/pseuds/katotastic000
Summary: The world had cast them out, so now they watched it burn.
Relationships: Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 93





	my sweet and tender beast

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, my first try at a Mastermind AU! I guess it's pretty weird but I had fun writing it.
> 
> Here is also a link to where I took the title and the inspiration from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gvUg7KLAclA
> 
> Enjoy!

It was no secret that a bad environment birthed bad people along with blood and tissues. They grew up unbeknownst that other was the exact black to their white, all they hated and rejected. From the blood arose tragedy and from the tissues grew people to spread it.

Losing their pride in one evening was the spark that it took to ignite the fire that later succumbed the earth. One dead brother and a single truth admitted left one man alone and shivering on the streets. Thousands of people and thus thousand times hate left the other trapped in a web of names and shame.

If all puzzles are punched the same, someday somebody had to put the wrong piece in the spot where its shape fit. Naturally it stood out, but it was hard to tell whether that one piece was set into a wrong puzzle or someone built a wrong puzzle around that one piece. Anyway, it fit. Perfectly.

The world had cast them out to a place where hope was so close that you could feel its warm glow on your hand yet when you touch it, it burns off your fingertips and leaves your skin boiling. Their exile was no preparation to re-enter this repulsive world, but a copy painted with nice color and equipped with some friends for along the way. The world would always spit them out again and they doubted this for not a second, they edged on closer and closer and then

"I’d end this world for you," Mondo said and kissed him. His lips were so chapped and dry they were sharp and Kiyotaka’s tasted like the thick layer of the old chapstick he had smeared on a minute ago. Mondo tried to take his hand but missed, only three fingers in his sweaty palm and out of nervousness, he squeezed and pressed the bones and joints together. Kiyotaka leaned into the kiss without achieved anything other than increasing the pressure under which their lips met, and he had stuck out his head in such a weird manner, leaving his neck third-tilted.

Their first kiss was horrible, so horribly innocent that they never told anyone about it. They remembered it every time they kissed afterwards and thought of it all the time they were not. It had been so soft, tender and gentle, they loved it and each other, hated that they loved and loved that they hated. If only they could never kiss again, so that they might float forever in the soothing ocean of yearning.

Their love was of a sick-sweetness of a cheap candy that someone forced you to eat and while you taste the soft, barbed coat of decay, you promise yourself to not spit it out.

They tried to defeat each other ever so often. Hired assassins, inflamed riots, sold out secrets. There were bodies every time, never their own of course. These carefully picked out methods were just the roses they brought to their dates. The main course consisted of bare combat, fist-to-fist and hand-in-hand; they knew each other’s weak spots oh so well. In the end, they always split the check. Whether they had a hand on the trigger, the hilt or the neck, they let go and helped the other up.

It was a game they played in lunacy. A dance and their whole world was the floor. Each step crushed a city underneath its heel, each spin turned two sides against each other, each mistake a chance for the hopeful to get up from the dust, only to be buried again.

Quite unlike their followers, they forced themselves to keep their human parts of their souls and not rot them out once and for all as they had done with countless other things that defined humanity. They kept it to suffer. To choke down and drown in their guilt, to absorb and dissolve in their shame.

They spent endless night curled up against each other, weeping, mourning their existences. They had no _"fond memories"_ to submerge in and no _"dreams"_ to look forward to. They had what was given – nothing – and what they formed out of it – destruction. And each other although the only love for themselves that remained in their world was found in the other’s heart. They knew that it was all lies. Nothing endured and all would die eventually. Kisses, comfort and their bones, all temporary. All precious lies.

Back then, at the time where their world did not expand outside their heads, they had friends. Their classmates were nice little hobbies they cultivated as a pastime. Their friends served adequately for a quick laugh, a seducing secret and a small slice of life cut from the chest of a typical high schooler. However, their friends’ capacities were quickly reached. No one shared the understanding which had connected them then. Their fucked-up lives didn’t make them any special. At times they spoke about their fucked-up lives, they pitied them. For they could have made nice companions if they’d actually used their past for something great.

Now there were just sidekicks. Every alternative of their plan led to this point, where the strings connected, the puppets moved to place, the actors received their directions and they could bow and leave the stage.

Dying was inevitable. For that reason, they had agreed on the circumstances. He wanted to go out with a _Bang!_ , a deep _Crack!_ in their poor friend’s head. Guilt was what he craved, the other’s dismissing screams of disappointment and agony was what he needed to go down as he lived. He decided to leave the rest to his love, where he had no power, and additionally, a tiny will, a little "Love you" note, so to speak. 

Once again, his world was shattered, a tragedy within a tragedy. His portrayal of their sentimentality was utterly good, his role as "Staved of Life" truly fascinating. They had planned that he’d lose his sanity, it was a nice detail to add to their picture. With the new heat and heart he had gained, he was able to linger long enough to face judgement for everything they had committed. All blame was on him again.

They left their world together in a way. He clung to his coat and waved. Oh, my sweet and tender beast, I’m coming home.


End file.
